


Mistletoe and Mayhem

by gremlinquisitor (suchanadorer)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mistletoe, Satinalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/gremlinquisitor
Summary: A cute little kiss under the mistletoe at the Herald's Rest.





	Mistletoe and Mayhem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cuillere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuillere/gifts).



There’s a pleasant buzz of activity in the Herald’s Rest, which pairs well with the pleasant buzz that The Iron Bull is feeling as he watches the festivities from what’s become The Charger’s Corner. Dalish and Skinner and arguing about Elven traditions, and he figures Krem is about two drinks away from knocking over his chair trying to watch Maryden without _watching_ Maryden. Satinalia’s been in full swing here for at least a week, and he figures it’ll be at least another week before decorations start being taken down, and Maryden starts back in on her regular repertoire. Missions don’t stop for holidays, but it gives everyone a chance to celebrate when they’re here.

It’s a good thing, he thinks, and it doesn’t take more than a moment’s looking around to see that others in the Inquisition think so, too. It’s rare to see so many people in here, rarer still to see them dancing and laughing as much.

It takes a lot of people to pull something like this off, but he knows that that also means someone has to organize it. And given the notices that he’s seen posted previously, suspiciously low on the Rest’s pillars, he thinks he knows who that someone might be. And when someone does good work, they deserve to hear it.

Harding is chatting with a couple other scouts, leaning against the side of a table, making gestures that, to him, look like a dragon. But lots of things look like dragons to Bull, so it could be anything. They erupt into laughter, and he takes the opportunity to stand, savoring the way the floor seems to roll under him a little, but not wanting to savor the way his horns get stuck in the beams when he tries to walk too soon. Whatever Cabot’s been putting in that mulled wine of his, it packs a punch.

He’s not sure who catches whose eye first, but she steps away from the table while he steps away from his bench and they meet somewhere in the middle, off to one side.

“Hey, Iron Bull. Are you… having a good time?” She’s wearing a green tunic, and it’s bright, but it looks nice with her hair. As she speaks, she takes a step back from him. It’s not a totally uncommon reaction, but it’s not like they’ve never met before, so he follows, shuffling forward. She’s smiling, so whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.

“I am! This place looks great, and people are really happy to be here, it’s wonderful. Makes the cold and the dark kind of worth it when we’re sitting here with nothing to kill.”

Another step, and again he slides his foot to follow her. Her steps are a lot smaller than his, but she’s definitely backing away from him. 

“I’m glad you like it. I know you and the Chargers spend a lot of time here, so…”

She takes another careful step, hands folded behind her back, head tilted just a little.

“Where are you _going_ , Harding?”

“Here,” she replies, settling her weight and pointing up.

Bull rolls his eye up, following the line from her finger to a small bundle of green twigs tied together with a red ribbon. Not his best moment as a former Ben Hassrath, then. The mistletoe’s seen better days, but he can’t imagine any plant would fare well upside down in smoky air in a tavern in the middle of winter. Most people probably wouldn’t, either.

“How did you get up there to hang that?” He asks, grinning. He can only just see her at the bottom of his vision when she shoots out a hip and sighs.

“Do you even know what you’re supposed to-- OH!”

He scoops her up in one smooth motion, his hands under her arms, fingers meeting along her back. She’s smaller than she looks when she’s out of her armor.

The kiss is about as innocent as Bull knows how to do, a gentle press of lips to the corner of her mouth. He startles, but only a little, at the feel of a hand on his cheek, and a kiss returned.

He smiles when he pulls back, glad to see that she’s smiling, too. Her eyes sparkle in the candlelight behind them, and okay, maybe’s he’s had a lot to drink, but it’s nice, being looked at all warm like that.

“You gotta put me down or I won’t be able to feel my arms.” She pats his shoulder affectionately, and he comes back to himself, laughing as he lowers her down to the floor again.

“All right, sure. Happy Satinalia, Mayhem.” 

She nods, smiling again, and turns to head towards the bar.

“Hey.” He calls out, and she stops, one foot half-lifted off the floor, and pivots back to look at him. “I wanted to say nice work, by the way, with all this.”

Her brows shoot up, but then she softens, and it’s sweet, the way that she’s surprised by it. “Thanks, Bull. Happy Satinalia to you, too.”


End file.
